


First Snow of the Season

by lola381pce



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Phil Coulson, Awkward Dates, Board Games, Christmas Fluff, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Comfort/Angst, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Hurt Clint Barton, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Phil Coulson, Sitwell And Hill Are Not Good Bros... Or Are They?, Sneaky Jasper Sitwell, Sneaky Maria Hill, Snow, first snow fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola381pce/pseuds/lola381pce
Summary: Clint takes his date to a board game café that’s been recommended to him by friends from work; apparently, the coffee there is orgasm-inducing (well, according to Sitwell)! Sadly, his date is less than impressed and leaves Clint in the lurch when he fails to return after disappearing “to use the restroom”. Fortunately, he’s not left on his own for long. Another friend from work is a regular at the café and helps him turn his crappy evening around leading to some surprising revelations for both of them.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 182





	First Snow of the Season

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on the following tumblr winter writing prompt: "We were hanging out at a board game cafe and when we came out, the first snow of the season was falling and you look so cute with snowflakes in your hair."
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Clint opened the door for his date and followed him inside. The pair grinned at the cheesy doorbell jangling above their heads, old fashioned yet strangely in tune with the ambiance of the coffee shop much like the Christmas decorations hanging from various fixtures throughout the interior.

A welcoming blast of warmth hit them as they entered, feeling good after the chill of the night but the steady babble of voices and shrieks of childish laughter were perhaps just a little too loud to be considered comfortable as background noise. On the plus side, scents of fresh ground coffee and recently baked pastries hung in the air and Clint found himself slowly coming round to Jasper's assessment of the place; “ _Ignore the noise, it’s a great place to kick back. And the coffee’ll give you an orgasm if your date doesn’t_.”

Well, he agreed with the _first_ part of his assessment, the jury was still out on the second. It _was_ only their first date after all.

“So, this is… nice,” Danny said, glancing around the place. Clint didn’t miss the lack of enthusiasm nor his choice of adjective. Nice. Not amazing. Not great. Not even neat. Just… nice. And said in a tone that suggested ‘I've-just-stood-in-dog-crap’.

Well, that kinda sucked!

Clint shuffled awkwardly and ducked his head. Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he gave Danny a sideways look while his date scanned the tables full of laughing kids and adults playing various board games. His offended expression pretty much said it all.

Horribly aware of the mistake he appeared to have made by bringing Danny here, Clint tried his best to reassure him that the coffee at least would be worthwhile. And, he hoped, maybe even the company if he gave Clint a chance. “Um, a couple of the guys from work recommended this place. I thought we could get a coffee an’ maybe play a few games of Elder Sign or Arkham Horror. I remember you said you were into gamin'. Uh, horror games?”

Danny sighed and shrugged. “Uh, I’m not _that_ sort of gamer. I’m, y’know, a _video_ gamer? Resident Evil, Silent Hill, The Evil Within. That sorta thing.”

Oh, fuck! Clint gave himself a mental facepalm. Gamer! Of course, he meant videogamer. Why the fuck would he mean board games? It was 2019, not 1920. Yet Sitwell and Hill swore by the place. Said the coffee was awesome and the games were a great way to decompress.

Maybe Danny didn’t need to decompress; he was a travel blogger. Did travel bloggers get stressed over shit? And, of course, now that he thought about the way Danny made a living, being a videogamer was so damned obvious. Tasha would be ashamed of him. As would Coulson.

Once again he resisted the urge to give himself a full facepalm. Just.

“We could go somewhere else?” Clint said with an embarrassed smile.

Danny shook his head. His own smile didn’t quite reach his eyes; it barely reached his face.

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You grab a table and I’ll go use the restroom.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I guess it could be fun. Right?”

Clint breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it would work out okay after all.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” said a familiar voice by his shoulder. Clint gazed up to see Coulson looking back at him, the half-smile that was typical for him playing on his lips. 

“I could say the same," Clint replied, his voice flat. Not even the sight of Coulson was enough to pull him from his ill-humour like it usually would. Because that was _exactly_ what he needed right now. His handler, on whom he'd harboured a secret crush for years, witnessing his humiliation at being stood up.

Coulson’s relaxed expression morphed into a frown, deepening the triangle of creases above the bridge of his nose. For someone who was here on a date, Clint wasn’t exactly brimming with enthusiasm (Jasper gossips, Coulson listens; so sue him). In fact, his murder face was firmly in place and he seemed downright withdrawn.

With years of experience at reading Clint’s body language, Coulson observed Clint's posture noting the way his shoulders were hunched over, his knee jumped as his foot bounced below the table, and his arms were held tight against his body, protecting him as he leaned on the tabletop fidgeting with an unused pad of paper. He’d seen it before when Clint was feeling vulnerable, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. Coulson’s eyes narrowed and his jaw muscles tightened into a hard knot. Somebody had hurt him. And recently. The date he surmised

"Waiting for someone?" he asked keeping his tone light, not wanting to appear as though he already knew the answer.

Clint glanced at his watch and sighed. "Reckon that ship sailed… oh, seventeen minutes ago. My date went to the restroom when we arrived, never saw him again. Guess I was just too stubborn to admit he bailed on me."

Another emotion flitted across Coulson's face but it was gone too quickly for Clint to decipher.

"More fool him," Coulson said sharply causing Clint to start. Catching himself Coulson enquired with a more gentle tone, "What were you here to play?"

Rather than responding with "Doesn't really matter" as he’d intended, Clint found himself telling Coulson the games he'd picked.

Coulson quirked an eyebrow. "You know how to play Elder Sign?"

Clint shrugged and rubbed his neck again. “Uh, not really. Figured Danny could show me or we could work it out together. Turns out he's not _that_ type of gamer.”

“Ah," Coulson acknowledged understanding. "This place closes in three hours. Pretty sure you’d have needed longer than that just to work out the rules. Mind if I join you?”

“I was thinking about leaving…”

Coulson nodded, carefully swinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Sure,” he said, amiably. “Another time maybe.”

“No!" Even to Clint's ears that sounded overeager. He took a calming breath trying for casual this time. "I mean... I _was_ thinking about leaving but now would be good. I'm here, you're here. An’ if you really don’t have somewhere else to be...”

Phil smiled at Clint and moved around to the other side of the table to sit opposite him. “Nope, I’m good. Have to warn you though, been a long time since I’ve done any role-playing games. Backgammon or Go are more my pace nowadays. Although I’ve been known to take part in the odd game of Star Wars Rebellion.”

“Seriously? You’re such a geek, Coulson,” Clint grinned. He knew the first two were games of strategy and tactics, things that Phil excelled at, and the third, well... “Kinda like shooting ducks in a barrel for you, isn’t it? You must wipe the floor with anyone who plays you?”

Phil’s smile widened. His café teammates were ruthless and tested his skills every time they played. Occasionally they even won. “You’d be surprised.”

“We, uh, don’t have to play either of those games. Honestly, I’d kinda like to try my hand at backgammon. Or maybe chess?”

“You sure?”

Clint nodded. He sounded more like his usual self and the sparkle was back in his eyes again.

“In that case, either’s good for me. How about I get a couple of coffees and see what’s free?”

“Nah. It’s on me, Coulson. Usual?” asked Clint rising to his feet.

“Perfect.” Phil slipped his backpack from his shoulder and took off his jacket, hanging it over the back of his chair. While he waited for Clint, he reached into one of the pockets and pulled out his glasses, giving them a thorough clean. By the time he’d finished and put them on, Clint was strolling back to the table with a mug in each hand and a box tucked under his arm.

Phil reached up to accept one of the coffees. “Didn't know you played chess.”

Clint eased back into his seat setting the mug and game on the table. He figured that was true enough. Usually, they caught up on paperwork and watched movies or played cards in safe houses, and he didn’t remember it coming up in casual conversation. Not that he remembered _every_ conversation with his handler but still.

“Learned in the circus," he said, taking a white and black pawn from the box in either hand. He held them behind his back, shuffling them between his left and right a couple of times before asking Phil to choose. "Magnus the Strongman loved it. Taught me to play when I was still a scrawny little rugrat.”

“Your left,” said Coulson taking a sip of coffee. He hummed appreciatively at the intense rich flavour bursting over his tongue. “Darkhorse, Barton. Does this mean you’re going to kick my ass?”

Clint put the black pawn in front of Phil and said, “Not sure. It’s been a while and somehow I don’t think you’re gonna make it that easy.” He took a mouthful from his own mug and added with a smirk, “You can bet that ass of yours I’m gonna have a good try though.”

Phil grinned back at him and the two men set up the board in companionable silence with Clint moving first as tradition dictated.

Clint was indeed a little rusty losing a couple of pawns, a rook, and a bishop fairly quickly. He soon picked up though, capturing a knight and several of Phil’s pawns in return. It didn’t take long for the two of them to get into the rhythm of the game as the coffee cooled in their mugs and frowns of concentration deepened the lines on their foreheads in between bouts of easy conversation.

“I thought you were going home a couple of hours ago, Phil. Holding out on us, eh?”

Phil looked up to see two of his gamer buddies he’d left earlier.

“Huh!” he said, surprised that so much time had gone past. “Ran into a friend from work. Decided to stay awhile. Rachael, Dave this is Clint. Clint, these are two of my friends from the café.”

"Nice to meet you, Clint," said Rachael. Oh my god, he’s gorgeous, she mouthed silently at Phil. He rolled his eyes at her, a flare of emotion tightening his chest for a moment. Uncertain as to what it was or signified, he shook it off. Probably just being overprotective after seeing Clint hurt earlier.

"Likewise. You got any tips on how to beat this guy?" Clint asked jutting his chin at Phil.

"Watch out for his sneaky side,” David told him. “Just when you think you've won, he pulls something out of the bag and bam, he nails you. He’s pretty deadly.”

“He’s kinda the same at work,” Clint agreed with a wink.

"Really?" Rachael asked, apparently interested in the snippet of information. Clint shot Phil an apologetic look. Phil shrugged but it was relaxed and not annoyed; no harm done.

"You know how we government types can be, Rachael," Phil said mildly. “Living life on the edge with our stationery requisitions and paperwork.”

The pair laughed as Clint ducked his head to hide a knowing smirk. He knew exactly how dangerous Phil was with a paperclip. Hell, the man ran a class at the Academy on the use of inanimate objects as weapons.

"Enjoy your game, fellas," Dave threw over his shoulder as he and Rachael headed off.

Watching them leave Clint said, “They seem pretty cool. Sorry if I nearly blew it. Rookie mistake.”

Phil smiled at Clint’s sheepish look. “It’s fine. I keep as close to the truth as I can for my personal life and yes, they’re good people. Meant to ask, how’d you find out about this place anyway?” he queried as they resumed their game. He wasn’t upset Clint was here, far from it, but he tried to keep his life outside of work separate where he could. He was fond of his S.H.I.E.L.D. colleagues and friends but he needed to have a place where he could switch off as Coulson and just be Phil for a time.

“Sitwell and Hill. They swore the coffee was the best and if I could tune out the noise, it’d be a great place to hang out. Aw coffee no!” Clint’s nose scrunched up at the mouthful of cold coffee he’d just swallowed. After the initial unpleasant sensation, the flavour danced over his taste buds. Damn, it was still really good.

Phil’s face remained impassive but he was surprised at Clint’s answer. Sitwell and Hill had always respected his boundaries. It was usually enough for them to drag him out from behind his desk, sometimes assisted by Romanoff and Barton, and try to get him shitfaced every few weeks to be satisfied he was getting acceptable socialising time. Like an awkward puppy. That they’d dropped this place into conversation outwith the three of them was… unexpected.

For some reason, though he didn’t really mind that it was Barton they’d told. It was actually kinda nice just enjoying his company and hanging out by choice rather than the necessity of a safehouse post-mission, waiting for extraction. He decided not to examine that little nugget of realisation too closely for now.

Instead, he cocked an eyebrow at Clint’s wounded look. “Top-up? Or are you just trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?”

Not taking his eyes off Clint’s Phil moved his knight. “Check.”

“Balls!”

Phil smirked. There was something endearing about the pout Clint occasionally adopted when things weren't going as expected. He decided not to examine that growing realisation too closely either.

With fresh coffee, they traded moves for a while longer until it became clear they’d reached an impasse. Clint could get out of Phil’s check but there no captures to be made and there were no longer any pawns to move so regretfully Phil called it.

“Stalemate?”

Clint studied the board running all the possible moves left in his head. Sadly, he couldn't see a way of drawing it out any longer without seeming like a sad-sac. Regretfully, he nodded agreeing with Phil’s judgment. "I enjoyed the game, sir."

"Phil," he replied. "We're off the clock.”

Clint smiled shyly at him and nodded. “Thanks, Phil. You really turned tonight around. Guess it’s time to call it a night though, huh?”

Phil felt another unexpected pang at his words. “Apparently so. I... enjoyed the game too. A lot.”

Clint’s face brightened. “Maybe play again sometime?”

The heaviness in Phil’s chest eased a little. “Sure. I’d like that.”

They packed up the pieces and took the box and their mugs to the counter. Phil exchanged a few words with the barista before he and Clint left the coffee shop. To their surprise, an inch or so of snow lay on the ground and continued to fall steadily.

Phil removed his glasses and lifted his face to the sky. His childlike expression of joy as the snow landed on his skin made him seem younger and more serene than Clint had ever seen him. He also looked… well, gorgeous.

After a few moments, Phil seemed to remember he wasn’t alone and he turned his attention to Clint with a bashful expression, his nose wrinkled up in embarrassment. “I, uh… when I was a kid, I used to run outside and do that with the first snow of the season. I guess there are some things you just don’t grow out of.”

On impulse, Clint leaned in and gently kissed Phil on the mouth. It wasn’t hurried or intense, just a soft, undemanding press of his lips against Phil’s. Eventually, he pulled back, his heart thumping in his chest, and tried to answer Phil’s questioning look.

“It seemed the right time,” he said as though that explained everything.

And perhaps it did for the second kiss, just as chaste, just as leisurely, was initiated by Phil. His hand reached up to cup Clint’s face, his thumb brushing lightly against his cheekbone pulling a tiny needy sound from the back of his throat.

Two kisses became three which effortlessly rolled into four, each a little more passionate, a little more heartfelt than the previous but remaining tender and sweet and perfect.

Eventually, Phil pulled back but only far enough to rest his forehead against Clint’s. “Not complaining but... why now?” he whispered.

Clint paused for a moment before he responded, "You just look so cute with snowflakes in your hair." 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope 'First Snow of the Season' brought you some pinin’ with your dinin’ (sorry, I’ll stop with the bad poetry now). Thanks for spending some of your Christmas or festive break with me. May you have a special day with peace and kindness... or at least five minutes of 'me time' to chill and relax.


End file.
